Christmas at Fort Briggs : Mini Tales
by MuffinKishin
Summary: A Christmas Special to my "King of Fort Briggs?" series.  ONE SHOT   To help everyone get into the Christmas spirit! And excite you to read more   Featuring Kimblee, Miles, General Armstrong and you've guessed it SANTA CLAUS HIMSEL!  Or is it?


© Disclaimer : **I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST / THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS / HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS THEREFORE THIS FANFICT CHRISTMAS SPECIAL ****EXIST ON THE BASIS OF NON - PROFIT ENTERTAIN. BOTH THE CHARACTERS SOLF J. KIMBLEE AND MILES BELONG TO ARAKAWA AND RIGHTLY SO. JUST LIKE HOW THE CLASSIC CHRISTMAS STORIES BELONG TO THE AUTHORS WHO WROTE THEM. THIS DOES NOT STOP YOU FROM ENJOYING THIS VERY ****SPECIAL FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST CHRISTMAS TALE.**

WARNING : This story may contain suggestive themes and hints.

_Part A_ : The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Fort. Not a creature was not even Buccaneer's pet Tort. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care. In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; the soldiers were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And Miles in his 'Kerchief, and Kimblee in his cap', had just settled down for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Kimblee sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to Solf's wondering eyes should appear? But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, with a little old driver, so lively and quick. He knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More raid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the Fort! To the top of the Iron Wall of Briggs! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the Fort-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, Kimblee heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As the Crimson Alchemist drew in his head, and began to turn around, down the chimney came St. Nicholas with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; a bundle of toys he had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; he had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and Kimblee laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself.

With a wink of St. Nick's eye and a twist of his head, soon let Solf know he had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they flew like the down of a thistle. But the Crimson Alchemist heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night~"

Next was a step that Kimblee knew he must do, he ran to Miles bed and hoped he'd need no midnight trip to the loo. He pulled and he poked and he groveled and groaned until the Ishvalan finally arose. Then with a glee filled cry the Crimson Alchemist couldn't help but exclaim: "I just saw St. Nick and he's realer than rain!"

The dark skinned Ishvalan could only release and sigh and he patted the top of the black haired man's hair. His lips parted slowly and in almost an apologetic way muttered, "You know that's just Heymans Breda looking for free food again..."

~Fin

_Part B_ : How General Armstrong stole Christmas

Every soldier down in Fort Briggs liked Christmas a lot... But the General Armstrong, who dwelled within the Iron Wall, DID NOT! The General hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be that her brother was always a light. It could be, perhaps, that General Raven had tried to get her under the mistletoe all night. But I think that the most likely reason of all, may have been that her heart was two sizes too small.

Whatever the reason, her heart or General Raven, she stood there on Christmas Eve, hating those partaking in this merry plight. Staring down from the top of Fort Briggs with a sour Armstrong frown, at the warm lighted window below. For she knew every soldier on several levels down were busy now, hanging a mistletoe wreath. "And they're hanging their stockings!" she snarled with a sneer, "Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"

Then she growled, with her Armstrang fingers nervously drumming, "I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!"

For tomorrow, she knew, all the soldier girls and boys, would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That's one thing she hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! Then the soldiers, young and old, would sit down to a feast. And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

They would feast on vanilla-pudding, and rare boar-roast beast. Which was something the General couldn't stand in the least! And THEN they'd do something she liked least of all! Every soldier in Fort Briggs, the tall and the small, would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing. They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the soldier's would start singing! They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!

And the more Armstrong thought of the soldier's Christmas song, the more the General thought, "I must stop this whole thing! Why, for too many unnamed years-" since she would vainly never admit her age, "- I've put up with it now! I MUST stop this Christmas from coming! But HOW?"

Then she got an idea! An awful idea! THE GENERAL ARMSTRONG GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! "I know just what to do" Armstrong laughed in her throat.

And she made quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. And she chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Armstrong trick! With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick! All I need is a reindeer..."

The General looked around. But, since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found. Did that stop the '_old_' (Not old) General? No! Armstrong simply said, "If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!"

So she called out the Ishvalan, Miles. Then she took some red thread, and she tied a biy horn on the top of his head. THEN she loaded some bags and some old empty sacks on a ramshackle sleigh and she hitched up poor Miles. Then the General said, "Giddap!" And the sleigh started off, towards the front of the Fort's doors where the soldiers lay a snooze in their rooms.

All the windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the soldiers were all dreaming sweet without care. When she came to a park and started into the place she pointed to the east sleeping quarters, "This is stop number one," General Armstrong hissed.

And she climbed into the vent shaft, empty bags in her fist. Then slid down the passage to the chimney shoot. A rather tight pinch. But, if Santa could do it, then so could the General. She got stuck only once, for a moment or two. Then she stuck her head out of the fireplace flue. Where the soldier's stockings all hung in a row. "These stockings," she grinned, "...Are the first things to go!"

Then she slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant, around the whole room, and she took every present! Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! rums! Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums! And she stuffed them in bags. Then the General, very nimbly, stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney! Then she slunk to the icebox. She took the whole feast! She took the plum-pudding! She took the roast beast! She cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why, Armstrong even took their last can of Briggs-hash! Then she stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee. "And NOW!" grinned the General, "I will stuff up the tree!"

And Armstrong grabbed the tree, and she started to shove, when she heard a small sound like the coo of the dove. She turned around fast, and saw the terror of Ishval. Solf J. Kimblee, who was bundled up in a blank that feel too his knee. The General had been caught by this State Alchemist, who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. He stared at the General and said, "Santy Claus, why... Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?"

But, you know, that Armstrong was so smart and so slick, she thought up a lie, and she thought it up quick! "Why, my sweet little Solf," the fake Santy Claus lied with a cough of disgust, "There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So I'm taking it home to my workshop. I'll fix it up there. Then I'll bring it back here."

And her fib fooled the eager Crimson Alchemist. Then she patted his head, and she got him a drink and she sent him to bed. And when Kimblee went to bed with his cup, SHE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up! Then the last thing she took was the log for their fire! Then she went up the chimney, herself, that liar! On their walls she left nothing but hooks and some wire. And the one speck of food that she left in the house, was a crumb that was even too small or a mouse. Then she did the same thing to the other wing's sleeping quarters. Leaving crumbs much to small for the other mice! It was a quarter past dawn... All the soldiers, still a-bed. All the soldiers, still a snooze when she packed up her sled. Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings! Three thousand feet up (obviously an exaggeration.. OR IS IT!) Up the side of Fort Briggs! She rode with her load to the tiptop to dump it in Drachma's territory! "PoohPooh to the soldiers!" she was ironically humming, "They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming! They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do! Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, then the soldiers will all cry BooHoo! That's a noise," grinned the General, "That I simple MUST hear!"

So she paused. And the General put her hand to her ear. And she did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then is started to grow. But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! She couldn't help but stare! The General popped her eyes! Then she shook! What she saw was a shocking surprise! Every soldier, the tall and the small, was singing! Without any presents at all! He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the General, with her feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so? It came with out ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!"

And she puzzled three hours, till her puzzler was sore. Then the General thought of something she hadn't before! "Maybe Christmas" she thought, "...Doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps..means a little bit more!"

And what happened then? Well...the Fort Briggs soldier's say, that the General's heart grew three sizes that day! And the minute her heart didn't feel quite so tight, she whizzed with her load through the bright morning light, and she brought back the toys! And the food for the feast! And she, SHE HERSELF! The General carved the roast beast.

~Fin


End file.
